


This Life Flattened Against the Wall

by ConceptaDecency



Series: This Life [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Culture, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: Why does Garak want to talk to Kira, alone, about Ziyal? Nothing good will come of it, that's for certain.
Relationships: Elim Garak & Kira Nerys, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: This Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202168
Comments: 44
Kudos: 149





	This Life Flattened Against the Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Author376](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author376/gifts).



> I wrote this riffing on Author376’s notions of Bajoran Mirror Culture (gay culture) and Kira’s perceptions of such compared to others’. Their fic is linked below. Highly recommended if you like this fic!

I wanted to stop this,

this life flattened against the wall,

mute and devoid of colour,

built of pure light,

this life of vision only, split

and remote, a lucid impasse.

Margaret Atwood, [_Tricks with Mirrors_](http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2003/10/tricks-with-mirrors-margaret-atwood.html)

"Ah, Major. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Garak briskly put aside the garment he'd been working on and rose from his tailor's bench to greet Kira, bowing politely in that obsequious, disingenuous way Cardassians employed with Bajorans they did not feel they were in a position to dominate.

"I have ten minutes, Garak," Kira said, not returning the gesture. She crossed her arms. "I've got a lot to do today." What could Garak possibly have to say to her? Certainly he was sometimes a useful source of information, but in these cases he usually came to Sisko or Odo or Doctor Bashir. When he saw fit to speak to anyone directly, of course, which was rare. 

"In that case we had better get started. Would you care to join me in the lounge?" Garak gestured to the curtained-off area at the back of the shop that Kira knew functioned as break room, consultation office, and waiting area for bored spouses. 

"You can tell me right here." Kira couldn't remember a time when she hadn't known that she must always try to resist when a Cardassian, especially a man, suggested moving to a second location. It was a habit that was less necessary now, in her present life, but still not one she was in any hurry to break.

"If you prefer." Garak nodded. "But what I have to say is of a...delicate nature." 

" _Fine_ ," Kira said, immediately annoyed at herself for giving in. But, it was Garak, after all. Whatever he was, he was hardly the type to trick someone into the back room of his own shop for nefarious reasons. Garak would never be so obvious.

"Excellent. Thank you, Major." Did Garak look genuinely relieved that she'd agreed to sit with him in the lounge? Kira had a moment to ponder this as Garak shut the shop's shuttered entrance and darkened the windows, drew back the gauzy red curtain that delineated the back room from the front and invited her to sit, and replicated tea — a mug of deka for Kira, red leaf in a tall glass for Garak.

"You have eight minutes. What is it?" Kira sat awkwardly on the red velvet chaise longue, arranged artfully in the corner of the room such that all the mirrors (and there were many; it was a tailor's shop, after all) were visible, but none distracting.

Garak, settled across from her on a much more utilitarian metal chair he'd retrieved from the desk in the other corner, was focused on his drink, stirring the sugar around in small circles with an ornate silver spoon that did not touch the sides of the glass, and then, after a single tap to clear it of drips, placing it carefully on his saucer. "What I have to say,” he said, pausing for a sip, “concerns our dear mutual friend.”

Garak had very few friends, and he’d be unlikely to refer to Odo as ‘dear’ or to come to Kira to discuss Julian. "Ziyal." Kira bristled at Garak's referring to her as a friend, but managed to suppress any outward expression of distaste. It was unfortunately true.

"Ziyal."

"What about her, Garak?" Every one of Kira's protective instincts was on high alert. Was Ziyal in trouble? What had Garak done to her? Kira had always hated the fact that Ziyal spent so much time with Garak, and had tried to warn her that he wasn’t to be trusted, but there was only so much she could do to discourage her from making friends with the only other Cardassian on the station. And it wasn't as if many of the other Bajorans were very eager to make her feel welcome. She did understand Ziyal’s draw to Garak, even if she didn’t approve.

"Major..." Garak seemed unsure of what to say.

"Seven minutes, Garak," said Kira, but they both knew she'd stay as long as she had to now that Ziyal's name had been invoked.

"Of course." Garak blinked his double-lidded eyes. "Major, I'm sure you’ve noticed that Ziyal has for some time had a certain...attachment...to me."

"Yes, I'd noticed." Everyone on the station had noticed.

"I wished to speak to you about this attachment.”

Oh, he did, did he? Kira hardened her eyes. “What about it?” 

“First let me say that it isn’t something that I encouraged. Or expected."

"Come on, do you want me to believe that? You absolutely encouraged her company." Even after Kira’d threatened him. Several times.

Garak nodded in acknowledgment. "I won't deny that I encouraged her company. But let me clarify. It's not that I didn't expect some sort of attachment. My being the only Cardassian on the station, as well as one of the only people willing to spend any time with her — present company excepted, of course, — made that inevitable. I would not have been surprised by a friendly attachment, or even a familial attachment of some sort." 

"You _are_ old enough to be her father," Kira said pointedly.

"Just so, Major. A filial attachment would not have surprised me in the least."

"But she has a crush on you." Someone had to get to the point. "Garak, you truly didn't see that coming from a mile away?"

Garak put his tea down on the small hexagonal wooden table that sat between them. He steepled his index fingers. "No. I can see now I was foolish, but no, I did not, Major. And, much as I hate to correct you, especially in this case, I'm afraid it's progressed beyond a crush. And so I need your help.”

“MY help, Garak?” What had he done? "I swear, if you've hurt her..."

"Major, I assure you, I haven't harmed even the tiniest scale on her smallest finger!" Garak threw up his hands as if in surrender. "In fact, I've asked you here specifically because I wish to protect her from harm, and it's not something I can do alone."

 _Protect her?_ Garak, seasoned Obsidian Order operative, certainly didn't need Kira's (or anyone's) help to protect a person from threats from enemies, assassins, or danger to their persons, so what was he talking about? _Protect her?_ "Garak, what the hell? What happened that you need my help?"

Garak hesitated. He picked up his tea from the table and sipped it. He then opened his mouth to speak, seemed to think the better of it, and closed his mouth again. A fine act. Or was it? Why would _Garak_ be nervous to speak to Kira?

Prophets! Something truly horrible barrelled its way into her thoughts. He hadn’t asked her here in aid of some sort of _marriage proposal_ , had he? The very thought was nauseating. But it made sense. Cardassians had strange, inflexible ideas about relationships between the sexes. Paternalistic notions of men protecting women through familial and marriage ties. And what's more, during the Occupation it was known that some Cardassian men with 'attachments' to Bajoran women had felt the need to ask their parents, usually their fathers, for permission to marry. Never a full Cardassian marriage, of course. Bajoran women had not been considered worthy of that, and besides most of the men already had wives back on Cardassia. But Cardassian men finding themselves 'in love' with Bajoran women didn't seem to think that a Bajoran marriage was any detriment to their Cardassian one. 

"Out with it, Garak," Kira spat. Better to get this disgusting ordeal over with. 

Garak stiffened and brushed down his tunic with the hand that was not balancing the top-heavy glass. “Major, precisely what happened is between Ziyal and myself. It’s certainly not my place to betray her confidence. Suffice it to say that the situations between us has reached a point at which outside help is required. And I'm afraid you are the only person qualified to grant that help.” 

So she was right. How dare he! Only the hot beverage in her hands prevented Kira from standing and jabbing her finger — or worse — into Garak's face. “Garak. First of all, Cardassian culture be damned, Ziyal is an adult and can make her own decisions.” Terrible decisions they may be, but it was true. There was no way Kira was letting this scaly bastard disregard Ziyal’s autonomy. “But that being said, if you think for one minute I’d help arrange ANYTHING between you and Ziyal, least of all what you're asking, then you’d better make an appointment with Doctor Bashir to get your head examined. I am NOT going to help you with this.” 

Garak didn’t answer immediately. He brought his drink to his lips, blue eyes inscrutable through the steam. "I'm sorry to hear that, Major," he said, wetly. "But what exactly do you think I'm asking of you?"

"I've had enough of your games, so let me be blunt. I can't forbid Ziyal from marrying you but I wish I could. One thing’s for certain, though. I am sure as hell not helping you. If she really wants to there's not much I can do about it, but she will be hearing nothing but objections from me all the way to the altar. Frankly I can't imagine a worse husband for her than you. The very thought makes me sick."

Garak's eyes grew wide. He seemed about to object. And then he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Major!" he said, gasping for breath and nearly (but not quite) spilling his tea into his lap. "I'm sorry! This is quite serious, I'm sure you'll agree." He paused to wipe a tear from his eye. "It's just that you're so very wrong. And yet, so very right."

"What the hell, Garak?" Had she been so wrong? Or was Garak attempting to disarm her with another of his tricks?

But all the stiffness had left Garak. He grinned at her, a soft puff of air snorting from his nostrils, before he spoke. "I completely agree with you that I'd be the worst husband imaginable for Ziyal. And, Major, don't take this the wrong way, but the thought makes me sick, too. Positively ill."

"Garak..." Who did he think he was, speaking like that?

Garak held up a hand. "Now, Major. You know I have a great deal of esteem for Ziyal. A great deal. She is a lovely young woman who deserves a bright future. I only meant that the thought of marriage to her, well, let's just say I am very much not in a position to offer her what she deserves."

Well, that was true whichever way you looked at it. Ziyal, if she ever chose to settle down, certainly deserved more than a washed-up former spy more than twice her age. But Kira was certain that had not been Garak's meaning. 

"So you've already got a wife on Cardassia." The poor woman. "Why didn't you tell Ziyal that in the first place? I swear, Garak, if you let her develop feelings for you when you could have nipped it in the bud by disclosing one small piece of information, I..."

"Major. Major!" Garak's eyes were wide, the expression on his face something between dismay and laughter. "I can see that we are having some difficulties communicating. 'Crossed wires', as Doctor Bashir would say. I assure you, I do not have a wife. On Cardassia or anywhere else."

Wiggle words. One had to insist on precision with Cardassians. Garak especially. 

“Fine. A betrothed, then.” 

“Major. Let me be crystal clear. I am utterly unattached to any woman. Not even a flirtation. That is not the issue. I wish it were.” 

"Then what is it, Garak?" The ten minutes had long passed. Kira would gladly give up far more time out of her day for Ziyal, but she couldn't help but be annoyed. It was becoming obvious that whatever Garak had to say could have been communicated in a few words if he would only come out with the truth. "If you don't have a wife, or a betrothed, or a...girlfriend." (Cardassians did not have boyfriends or girlfriends in same way Bajorans or humans or many other species did, but Garak was a bit of an oddity, even for a Cardassian.) “I would have thought you'd be eager to find one. I've never heard of a Cardassian your age who wasn't married. Or widowed." 

"I’m an unusual case, Major, I'll give you that. And before you ask, no, I'm not widowed, either. I've never been married. I am unfortunately not the type of man whom most women are keen to marry."

“Because you’re an exile.” Precisely why he’d pursue Ziyal, actually. Being half Bajoran, she was something of an exile too. That this commonality would draw them together had been one of Kira’s worries from the beginning.

“That too, I grant you. But that’s not what I was referring to.” 

"Because you're a spy, then."

"Profession does not tend to be the deciding factor in eligibility for marriage on Cardassia. So long as one is supporting oneself adequately. No, there's another reason."

"And that reason is...?" Kira could feel her foot tapping in frustration.

"Major, I am...not particularly interested in Ziyal in that way. In women as a category, in that way, as a matter of fact. I think you take my meaning." Garak crossed his legs, settling an ankle on his knee, and took a deliberate sip of his tea.

"Not particularly interested...are you telling me you prefer men? You're a Reflector?" 

"To use the Bajoran vernacular, yes.” Garak sighed. “Or close enough."

Well. This certainly put the situation in a fresh light. If it were true. There was one problem with Garak's claim. "Garak, you can't be a Reflector because there are no Cardassian Reflectors."

Garak raised an eye ridge and gave a wry grin. "Oh, Major. Surely you don't believe that? Just because my people are more reticent to discuss our personal lives than yours are doesn't mean that Mirror Culture, to use your term, doesn't exist on Cardassia. We are as diverse a people as any, despite what you may think."

"Okay, fine, so you're a Reflector." Perhaps he genuinely was. Kira had to concede that her experience of Cardassian types was rather narrow. "Why didn't you tell Ziyal in the first place? You might have prevented this whole situation."

"As I said, Major, we Cardassians are a private people. There was no call to reveal such an intimate detail."

"Uh huh." Garak kept using words like 'private' and 'personal', but by the Light of the Prophets Kira couldn't see how having a reflected attraction was particularly private. But that was Cardassians, really. Or maybe Garak. In any case, Kira didn't need to understand the reasoning behind Garak's reticence. "But don't you think there's some call to tell her now, Garak?"

Garak nodded. "Precisely! I’m delighted we’ve finally found something we can agree on! Yes, it's time to tell her. And that is why I need your help."

Fantastic. “ _My_ help? What do expect me to do?” 

“Major, Ziyal is an intelligent, kind, and caring person. However. I have reason to believe she would not look kindly upon this piece of news.”

“Well, yes. She’ll be upset, I’m sure. She’s _very attached_ to you, Garak.” 

“That. But also, I’m not certain she’d be open to association with me once she’s aware of my nature.” 

“I'm sorry?” 

“Major.” Garak paused, choosing his words carefully. “There is a reason you were under the impression there are no Cardassian Reflectors. Most on Cardassia would rather we did not exist, and so we are not talked about. For reasons of family and state-building, there is a...strong preference, on Cardassia, for strict adherence to the path one’s gender designation at birth would indicate.” 

“Uh huh. So you should have married a woman and had a houseful of children by now. What does this have to do with Ziyal?” 

“My concern is that her distress would not be limited to the fact that I can’t be the man she would like me to be.” 

Kira shook her head. Cardassians. They could never be direct. And then the bastards had the nerve to pretend everyone else was stupid when they asked for clarification. But Kira had never much cared for what Cardassians thought. 

“What do you mean, Garak?”

“Major, repulsion runs deep.”

“Wait. Are you worried Ziyal will think less of you because you’re a Reflector? Garak, Ziyal?”

Garak inclined his head, a Bajoran gesture of confirmation. 

“Garak. Come on!” Kira couldn’t believe she was hearing this. “She won’t have a problem with _that_. She’s not like that. She’s never had a problem with any of the Reflectors on the station. She won’t reject you.” Of course she wouldn’t. Ziyal was too accepting, in Kira’s opinion, given her willingness to joyfully associate not only with Garak, but also with the father who, among other atrocities, had at one time been fully prepared to kill her simply for existing. Surely the small matter of someone’s attraction, even if it were the man she loved and could not have, wouldn’t matter to her.

“Perhaps you’re right, Major. However, I don’t share your confidence. You have an understandable bias towards the parts of Ziyal that are more like you. But she is also Cardassian.”

“Garak. Look. You must be wrong. She’s good friends with Julian. And with Jake Sisko.”

Garak looked nearly wistful. “She is. There is a notable difference between me and them, however.”

“Okay, so they’re Prisms, not Reflectors.” As far as Kira was aware. She’d never actually asked, of course, but neither of the two had ever restricted themselves to one type of partner. Especially Julian, but young Jake was rapidly catching up.

“Come now, Major. Prism, Reflector, Quicksilver. They’re all the same unfortunate category for Cardassians. No, Doctor Bashir and Mr Sisko are _human_. Therein lies the difference.”

“Ah.”

“Yes.” 

“Such behaviour is perfectly acceptable in a non-Cardassian. We tend not to hold other species to our exacting standards, Major. As I’m sure you’re well aware. They simply haven’t the capacity, so why bother?” This was delivered with an ironic snort. There was a fair chance that Garak actually believed what he’d said, but on the other hand, she’d never seen so much as a hint of condescension from Garak towards Ziyal, despite her only being half Cardassian. He seemed to very much care about Ziyal in a way, Kira now realised (if Garak was indeed a Reflector; Kira still knew better than to believe anything he said without subjecting it to a great deal of scrutiny) that was without ulterior motive. Another point in his favour was the esteem in which he appeared to hold Julian; any mention of Cardassian superiority directed at Julian that Kira had ever seen was clearly a barely-disguised affectionate jibe designed to goad the doctor into a spirited discussion.

Wait. Just a damned minute. How had she been so blind? She knew Cardassians. How they were. Too well. Had known her whole life. Like most Bajorans had been obliged to, for her own safety. They expressed romantic interest in a very particular way, and if you compared Garak’s behaviour towards Ziyal with his behaviour towards Julian, the contrast was stark. Unless Garak had been playing a very, very long game, it was clear he was telling the truth about being attracted to men, or one man at least, and not at all to Ziyal. 

Kira wondered if Julian knew. 

But that was irrelevant to the matter at hand. And none of her business. 

“Fine, Garak. I’ll help you. What do you want me to do?” As far as Kira was concerned, the only course of action was for Garak to just tell Ziyal, as gently and kindly as possible, and leave the resulting fallout in the hands of the Prophets. And Ziyal’s friends, of course. She supposed that was where she came in.

“Thank you, Major. Sincerely. Not for myself, but for Ziyal.”

“Of course for Ziyal. When are you going to tell her?” The sooner the better, Garak would no doubt agree. If there was one thing Kira and Garak had in common, it was pragmatism. 

“Ah.” Garak tapped a finger on the side of his glass. A beat. “I had rather thought that you should tell her, actually.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“I wouldn’t wish to impose my presence on her for a moment. Should she decide she didn’t want to associate, once she knew the truth.”

“Garak.” She wouldn’t, Kira was sure of it. “If you’re so afraid of what Ziyal will think, why tell her at all? Just say you don’t feel the same way about her.”

“I have tried, believe me." Garak shook his head. "It’s an ineffective strategy. You were young once. I’m sure you remember how unwilling youth can be to hear what they don’t wish to.” He drew a breath. “Besides. If she knows my nature, she’ll know it’s not a flaw in her, but in me.” 

“Garak, it’s not a flaw,” Kira began, then stopped. She hadn’t stayed here for this long (the ten minutes had long passed) to reassure Garak on his inherent worth as a person, but to protect Ziyal. She didn’t have time And Garak had a point. Surely Ziyal would be less hurt, and move on more quickly, if she knew Garak couldn’t love her, rather than wouldn’t. 

“I’m aware Bajorans don’t see it as a flaw," Garak said curtly. "But I didn't ask you here to discuss our species' comparative views on the matter. If you're willing to do as I ask, then I thank you. If you are not, I would request that you kindly remove yourself from my shop. I have work to do."

"Remove myself and tell no one what we've just discussed."

Garak inclined his head stiffly. "As you say, it's not a flaw to Bajorans. I suppose if the word got around the station I'd be no worse off than I am already. Perhaps it would even garner me some sympathy." Garak affected a broad Northern Province country accent straight from a pulp holonovella. "That poor Reflector Cardassian, rejected by his own monstrous people. What a tragedy. Let's be sure to buy our festival smocks from him this season, so he knows he's got our support."

Kira rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, Garak. I'll tell her, okay? I'll do it tonight. I'm going over to hers for dinner this evening anyway."

Garak nodded again. He probably knew this already. Hence his insistence on talking to Kira today. "Thank you, Major. Truly. And, if it's not too much to ask one more thing of you, do apologise to dear Ziyal for me."

"Garak. There's nothing to apologise to her about." Though Garak likely wouldn't welcome it, Kira felt a kernel of reluctant sympathy for him. Wrapped though it was in layers of relief. At least all Ziyal risked now was a bit of heartache. And the peril of being in a questionable friendship (and the friendship would continue, if Kira knew Ziyal at all) with a dangerous and untrustworthy former spy. Although. Garak did have his own code. He was fiercely loyal to those few people he considered his own. Julian, of course. But Ziyal was also in that category; if that hadn't been obvious before, it was now that Garak had entrusted Kira with this confidential information. 

"Please. If nothing else, I've kept this from her."

"Fine. I'll pass along your apologies. But Garak, she'll understand. Eventually. You'll see her again soon, and you can apologise to her yourself. I have no doubt."

"Perhaps you will prove to be more correct in your assessment than I am," said Garak. He quaffed the remainder of his tea, tipping the bottom of the glass nearly to the ceiling, and then placed the cup on the table, a polite indication, to Bajorans, that his own business, at least, was at an end. Kira appreciated the gesture. 

"I am," she said, standing. Her own cup was fuller than Garak's had been, but only warm, now, and she was able to finish it in a few gulps. "Correct, I mean. And other than Ziyal, your secret is safe with me." She placed her cup beside the glass on the table and turned to leave, allowing Garak the brief moment necessary to meet her at the curtain and raise it to usher her into the front room of the shop. 

"We'll see about that, Major," said Garak.

There was a moment of awkward silence as they made the six or seven steps to the shop exit.

"Computer," Garak began, as they approached the locked front shutter.

"Garak, wait," said Kira. 

Garak turned to her. He blinked, his ocular ridges accentuating the roundness of his eyes. "Yes?"

"Nobody else knows?" Had he been alone, all these years on the station? “Not even Julian?”

Garak allowed his eye ridges to rise, and his eyes had never been clearer. Like two deep crystal pools set in twin caves. "It isn't a fact one readily reveals to others."

"But it’s Julian. You could tell him."

"I don't believe it's necessary to disclose that sort of information to one's physician."

"I meant as a friend. It wouldn't make any difference to him."

"Perhaps. Not to him. Computer, open." The computer beeped in compliance and the door rolled open and the windows returned to their public-welcoming transparency. Garak dipped his head forward, once again affecting his customer service mien now that they were visible through the shop windows. "I am deeply in your debt, Major. Truly." He raised his face to meet Kira's, and in the brightness of the Promenade lights through the clear glass, his eyes narrowed. "I will take your words under advisement. I can only hope you're right. About everything." 

Kira returned the nod, and left the shop. Cardassians, as a rule, didn't hope. But Garak was a strange Cardassian.

You don't like these metaphors.

All right:

Perhaps I am not a mirror.

Perhaps I am a pool.

Think about pools.

Margaret Atwood, [_Tricks with Mirrors_](http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2003/10/tricks-with-mirrors-margaret-atwood.html)

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this work came about over a year ago, in chats in the comments section of my Kira-has-no-gaydar fic [As Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822205) (not actually about Christmas). [Author376](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author376/pseuds/Author376) wrote [Perception](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853549), an even better fic in the same vein, in which they created the terms ‘Reflector’ and ‘Mirror Culture’, and I was inspired but unfortunately creatively blocked for months and months. Here is the final result! Thanks, Author376!
> 
> Comments and kudos super encouraged, and please go read Author376's works!


End file.
